The Fun Of It
by AmethystWren
Summary: Gavroche gets an unwitting Eponine to prank one Marius Pontmercy. She vows revenge. A prank war ensues between two siblings who, whether or not they care to admit it, think very much along the same lines. Whether they're working together or set firmly against each-other, one thing's for sure; this won't be cooling down any time soon. Gradually growing more and more AU...
1. Chapter 1

**Just a sweet little idea. Maybe slightly AU, but hopefully nothing too drastic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, or anybody you recognise from it. Of course.**

* * *

I try my best to hide my long, dark hair beneath my hat, tucking it in a little more at the back and tugging a few of the shorter locks out at the front, as I head down the road. It's easier to run away in trousers than it is a skirt, but if I'm going to dress as a boy, I've found the long hair tends to have a negative effect.

Also, if anyone's out looking for Eponine Thernadier, they won't be looking for a boy. There's lots of things I know, you see.

The sky is spitting water at me. It's not exactly rain; it's too light, too infrequent, and it certainly isn't going to soak me to the bone. Still, the road is damp beneath my bare feet, and far too cold for comfort.

"Eponine,"

Instinctively, I whirl round, fists balled, expecting a threat; perhaps a drunkard looking for a fight, or one of father's friends, though how they'd recognise me in my almost fool-proof disguise is beyond me. Instead of something terrible, I'm instead met with an empty street, stretching out the way I've just come.

_Must be the wind_, I think, as I relax my stance slightly and turn back the way I was heading before, though how long the wind has made the noise 'Eponine', I have no idea.

"Oi!" Well, _that_ most definitely is _not_ the wind.

A hand grabs my left wrist. My right hand automatically forms a fist and I raise it, turning to face my 'attacker'. I immediately lower it again. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"I 'ad ya scared then, didn' I?" Gavroche beams proudly.

I shake my head. "No."

"I did." He insists.

"If you say so."

My little brother throws my wrist away from his hand like it burns; God forbid he be seen in public holding hands with _me_! Biting back a teasing comment, I instead fold my arms and look at him pointedly.

"I," Gavroche says slowly, with heavy emphasis. He's clearly proud of himself. "Have a plan!"

Shaking my head and raising my arms in defeat, I set off down the road again. "I'm not getting involved."

"Aww, but _Eponine_!" He complains, hurrying after me. Somehow, we find ourselves walking in perfect step along the cobbled road as he looks up at me with wide, brown eyes. "It's a really _good_ plan."

I snort.

"I mean it this time!" It must be evident that I remain unconvinced, because he adds, "An' I _know_ I said that last time, too. But I swear, this time, it will be _really_ funny!"

My arms remain folded as we continue down the dampened road. "What's in it for me?"

Gavroche stops walking for a moment, to think. It takes a moment for me to realise. When I, too, come to a halt, it's a few feet away from him. Still, I doubt he's aware of it at all. "It involves Marius."

The grin's on my face before I can stop it. "I'm in."

* * *

We stand, waiting, in an alley that feeds off the main road. At this time of day, it's fairly busy and, since our meeting yesterday, Gavroche and I have _everything_ planned out. Well, so he says. I actually have no idea what I'm doing.

Later on, there's a meeting at the Cafe Musain with Enjolras and the gang. Marius will be going, as usual. This road is the quickest route there. He's certain to pass by any moment… And that's all I know about _that_!

"What are you planning to do?" I ask suspiciously. "While I'm distracting him, I mean."

"Nuffin' _too_ bad." The boy answers cryptically.

Before I have chance to question him further, he's shoving me out of the alley and into the road. Staggering a little, I regain my balance and look around. Someone walks into me, and I've pretty much already guessed who it is. Who knew my brother had such good timing when it came to these things?

"'Ponine!" Marius smiles politely. I find myself grinning like some sort of idiot. But when Marius smiles at you, you can't _not_ smile back; it's literally impossible. "I wasn't expecting to see you here!"

"It's such a strange coincidence." I pretend to agree. "I just thought the weather looked great today, and figured I'd go for a walk. You?"

"It's raining…"

"Exactly!" I feign cheerfulness. "Beautiful!"

Marius presses a hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Mhm." I hum in confirmation, not trusting my voice at this precise moment in time. His hand is warm, and his, and it's _touching_ my _face_! It may not exactly be in the most romantic of ways, but it's still happening, and it's still enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

He pulls his hand away, and it takes all my self control to restrain myself from asking him to put it back again. That would be one sure-fire way of losing my best friend. How creepy would _that_ sound? _Wait, do you think you could put your hand back on my head? It was nice. _He probably already thinks I'm crazy; _that_ would remove all doubt.

_Where _is _that little brother of mine?_ I glance back at the alley, but he's no longer there. If this was all a trick… I _will_ get him for this later…

"I should get going." Marius tells me, drawing my attention away from the alley and back to his lovely green eyes.

Reaching out, I grab his arm to prevent him from leaving. "But I… I want to talk to you! We hardly ever get chance to just chat anymore." Gavroche, hurry _up_. This is becoming a really forced conversation.

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Marius asks anxiously. However, much to my disappointment, he does not raise his free hand to feel my forehead.

I nod; I'm not sick. Although… Maybe if I was, he'd stay? Oh, _where_ has Gavroche got to? I'm not sure how long I can keep this up.

My grip isn't exactly powerful, and someone as strong and wonderful as Marius can easily shake it off. "I'm off to l'ABC." He tells me. "Feel free to come."

"No," I turn him down politely, ignoring that sinking feeling in my stomach. "I'll just carry on walking. Alone."

He grins. I grin back (damn his contagious smile!). He sets off…

…And falls flat on his face.

I hurry over to his side, helping him into a sitting position. "Are you alright?" I ask anxiously.

He nods. "What the heck happened there?" He asks.

As my eyes follow his legs, down to his boots, I see the problem fairly quickly; someone's tied the laces of one to those of the other with a series of very tight-looking knots.

"Who could've done _that_?" He wonders aloud. "Surely I'd have noticed if someone was tying my shoes together like that."

I think I have a pretty good idea of who did this. I'm not sure whether I should kill him or congratulate him. Maybe both.

* * *

**This was originally meant to be a one-shot but, it seems like people like this, judging by the reviews and favourites. So I've done another chapter, and edited this one slightly so it flows better.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Seems people like this, and I have ideas for it, so I'll continue it :)**

**I've tweaked bits of this chapter and the last in the hope that they'll flow better, as well as make more sense. Some of it seemed a little jumpy.**

* * *

Pushing the door to the café open, it doesn't take a genius to spot the boys I'm looking for. For a start, Enjolras is standing on the table, apparently to avoid Grantaire, who appears to be heavily intoxicated (as usual).

Marius sits across from my trouble-making little brother, all too blissfully unaware of the fact that it was the very same little tyrant who sent him falling to the floor whilst he made his way to the last ABC meeting.

Adjusting my hat and glancing down at my legs- yes, I remembered to change into trousers, good- I head towards my fellow boys (for I _am_ a boy, obviously) and sit down.

"You're late." Enjolras comments as I slide into place beside my brother, deliberately nudging the twelve year old as I settle, feigning an attempt to get comfortable. He scowls at me, but there's not much else he can do right now.

"And _you're_ standing on the table." I point out.

"There is a _very_ good reason for that." He insists. "And that is-"

"_Me_!" Grantaire interrupts loudly, proud as can be of the fact that he's driven the poor blond to such desperation that he feels he can't set foot on the floor.

Marius leans to the side, so that I can see him round Enjolras' leg, and rolls his eyes at me. I bite back a snicker. Under the table, Gavroche nudges my leg with his. When I turn to glare at him, he winks mischievously and then turns to talk to Courfeyrac, who sits to his left, before I can retaliate.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Still, I have Gavroche for a brother and my father's got a cunning little mind. It doesn't take long for me to concoct a master plan. Luckily for me, Enjolras has yet to move down from the table, and remains there with his arms folded, his face devoid of any expression. With Gavroche unwittingly distracting Courfeyrac for me, I lean to my left, sliding my hand along the table.

Gavroche, still nodding along and participating in his conversation with the older man, nudges me as I practically lie across him and shoots me a questioning look. I glance at Marius and back at my brother again, flashing an innocent smile. He merely rolls his eyes and leaves me be.

Oh, thank you, crush on Marius. For all the trouble you get me into, you more than make up for it today.

Biting my lower lip in concentration, I try my best to subtly steal away Courfeyrac's drink. Snatching it towards me as I straighten up, back in my place, I somehow manage to avoid spilling it all across the tabletop. I'll credit this to the fact that it's barely half-full.

Glancing over at the man who is now drink-less, I find myself relaxing when I realise he has yet to notice what I've done.

The thought occurs to me that one of the others spotted me. Looking upwards, I'm relieved to find that Enjolras is distracted by Grantaire, who is trying to convince some poor woman (I'm just going to assume that she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time) that the blond on the table 'isn't all that moody, really'.

Marius, however, is another matter entirely. Elbow on the table, chin resting in his hand, he casually tilts his head to one side, peering round Enjolras' leg, and raises an eyebrow.

I tap the side of my nose with a finger secretively and push Courfeyrac's drink a little nearer to Gavroche.

Not long after the poor woman has managed to politely extract herself from Grantaire's drunken conversation, and scurried across the room as fast as her legs will let her, has he decided to make it his goal to get Enjolras off of the table.

"I'm not _that_ scary, am I?" He asks the blond.

"I'm not up here because I'm _scared_," He explains tiredly. "I'm up here because- _Don't_ even think about it!"

I try to suppress my grin as Enjolras takes a step backwards, away from Grantaire and his open arms (which are spread, ready for a hug). The back of his foot nudges Courfeyrac's drink and topples it. However, not _quite_ in the direction I'd been hoping for. Rather than soaking Gavroche, it instead falls a few inches to the right.

The liquid is much cooler than I thought it would be, and seeps through the thin material in my trousers, sticking them to my leg.

"I'm so sorry!" Enjolras apologises. Grantaire repeats the sentiment and, despite his state, he seems sincere.

Still, I rise from my place, straighten my hat, and announce that I'm leaving anyway.

Gavroche's grin, which I just catch out the corner of my eye, does not go unnoticed or forgotten. The need for revenge is just more prevalent, now, dear brother. You'll see.

* * *

For a spring day, it's surprisingly warm. Not in the mood to go home and find myself either roped into one of father's schemes or else sitting bored in the corner, I decide to walk around for a while. The river's always beautiful, particularly when I'm alone and can fantasise that there's a certain Mr. Pontmercy beside me.

In the daytime, it looks very different; I'm far used to strolling alone at night. Despite the colours of the city around me, the grey-blue of the river water, I find myself missing my usual walks. Then, the streets are empty, and it's as though I have the entire world to myself.

Removing my hat and scratching an itch at the back of my head with my left hand, I hold my hat in front of my face with my right and examine it closely. It makes an almost bowl-like shape.

Face alighting in a smile as a plan starts to form in my mind merely from that little prompt, I scoop my hair up and smack my hat back on to hold it in place, sprinting homewards. Please, _please_ can my parents be out. I'll need to be quick if I want to catch Gavroche in time.

* * *

Scoping around our empty flat, I discover, much to my dismay, that we don't own any buckets. We _do_, however, own several glasses, probably from the old days, when father owned his inn. Selecting a particularly large one, I resolve to remain in my boy clothes (far easier to run in). Clutching the glass protectively against my chest, I sprint out of our flat, in the direction of the river.

When I reach it, I'm panting to get my breath back, but I can't stop; not if I want to catch my brother. Crouching down by the water's edge, I lower the glass beneath the murky depths until the rim _just_ dips beneath the rippling water and then lift the now full glass out.

Tipping a few inches of water out, so that I'm less likely to spill it over myself as I run, I clutch it to my chest with one hand, place the other over the top to act as a makeshift lid, and then dash towards the café. Please let me catch him.

* * *

Waiting just outside the door to the café, I struggle to catch my breath. The front of my shirt is damp where water has sloshed out of the glass, but the majority of it remains where it should be, and I'm proud of that fact. Besides, if the alcohol on my legs is anything to go by, the water on my shirt will be dried up in a matter of minutes thanks to the day's sunshine.

Hearing Gavroche's loud voice chatting away as he approaches the exit from the inside, I press myself against the wall just beside the doorframe and prepare myself.

Marius exits first, and I _almost_ throw the contents of the glass over him. Luckily, I realise who it is before this can happen. Still, he spots me. He opens his mouth to speak, but I frantically shake my head, urging him to carry on as though he hasn't seen me. Puzzled, he walks on down the street, backwards so as to spot his friends when they emerge.

Once again, Gavroche starts to talk, and I've never before been so thankful that his voice is so loud, so unmistakably _his_. As the next person emerges from the café, I throw the water over them, grinning triumphantly.

What I do not anticipate, however, is that Gavroche is so small, so thin, that he can fit through the door at the same time as someone else. And although my brother's hair is slightly damp, it's the someone else who appears to have taken the majority of my attack's force.

Opening my mouth to apologise, I find I'm cut off my Enjolras'… Smile? That can't be right…

"Consider it even." He tells me, rolling his shoulder, presumably uncomfortable in his sopping wet clothing, before brushing past and heading after Marius.

Gavroche walks by me, steps slow and purposeful- like a cat's, I think. "You'll 'ave to try much 'arder than that, sister dear." He taunts, running after the others before I can catch him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Happy Easter, everybody. And, because it seems rather fitting for this story, happy April Fools' tomorrow :D**

**For all the feedback I got for chapter 1, there wasn't much for 2. I'm always open to constructive critisism (not flames -.-), so if you have any I'm more than willing to listen and take it on board.**

**That said, thank you ever so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited and put this on story alert.**

* * *

When I wake up from a particularly strange dream involving kittens and beer, I feel strangely like I have to get my revenge. Today. I don't know why. Maybe it's some remnant of the dream I just can't remember, though how my pranking little brother has _anything_ to do with cats and booze is beyond me.

"'Zelma," I whisper. My little sister rolls over, but doesn't wake. "_Zelma_," Again, she doesn't hear. "Azelma Lucette Thenardier!" All premise of whispering has gone out the window by this point.

My fourteen year old sister bolts upright, panting heavily. She looks around the room, before she realises it was only me and not something truly terrifying. Not that I'm _not_ scary when I'm angry, but that's besides the point…

"'Po_nine_!" She grumbles. "I was having the most beautiful dream, and you had to go and ruin it!"

"I've had an idea to prank Gavroche back,"

"Oh God…"

I ignore her. "He's effectively got me _twice_ now, in _one_ day. Not to mention what he did to Marius…" Swallowing, I stand and hold a hand out for Azelma. "We're going to go get him back."

"Hold on a moment." She raises an eyebrow. "Where did this 'we' come from?"

I shrug. "Us girls gotta stick together."

Taking my hand, she's hauled to her feet. For all her grouchiness in the mornings, I know she's been persuaded. Just the prospect of seeing our brother again is enough for her to be swayed. Besides, she's always been one for a little fun.

* * *

"What do we do?" Azelma asks as we stop walking.

I've taken her to the centre of town. Even though the sun has only just finished peaking over the horizon, the place is already bustling with market stalls, shoppers and pick-pockets alike.

Taking her hand so as not to lose her, I force our way through the crowd of people. When we reach an alley on the opposite side of the square from where we started, I pull Azelma down it and release her hand.

"You need to look sad." I explain to her. "And maybe hurt. What does father do? You know, so it looks like he's injured?"

"He strapped his leg up once with rope." My sister remembers. "Had an awful cramp for days." She reaches out, grabbing my hand. "_Don't_ make me do that!"

I shake my head. "I won't. I promise; Gavroche would never believe you'd lost your leg, not unless there was blood and stuff. Besides, no-one would see because you're wearing a skirt. Father wears trousers, so it's more obvious if one leg is 'missing'."

Azelma releases my hand, relaxing slightly against the wall of the alley. "Then what are we going to do?"

I fold my arms, drumming my fingers against my ribcage with one hand whilst I ponder our options. "We're going to the bakery." I announce, grabbing my sister's hand and dragging her out of the alleyway, back into the throng.

"But… We don't have any money!" She protests.

"We don't need any." I assure her. "We aren't going to buy anything, we're just going to- _Marius_!"

"God!" Azelma groans as I change direction, heading for my best friend.

He's busy talking to a man selling hand-made jewellery. So engrossed is he in conversation that he doesn't notice me until I'm standing beside him, and even then I have to prod him in the shoulder.

"'Ponine!" He smiles warmly.

I grin back. Possibly like a psychopath. Way to go, Eponine. Way to go. "Bonjour, Monsieur Marius."

"Epo_nine_." Azelma whines, tugging on my hand.

I ignore her, though I tighten my grip. She might only be three years younger than me, but she has a tendency to run off if given the chance. Not as much of a tendency as I suppose I have, and definitely not as much as Gavroche, but it's still there.

"What are you two doing out here?" Marius asks.

The jewellery seller starts to get angry. "If you aren't going to buy something, _move_!" He snaps.

"My apologies, Monsieur," Marius dips his head to the vendor, wrapping an arm round my shoulders and guiding me and Azelma (because I'm holding her hand, still) away.

Keep calm, Eponine. It's just his arm. Round your shoulders. It's nothing worth getting excited over.

That doesn't mean I'm not going to, though.

"We're going to the bakery." I answer his question, somehow managing to sound neutral despite my pounding heart. "Et tu?"

"Killing time." He replies casually.

My _darling_ little sister (how I hate her sometimes) chooses _now_ to interrupt. "That's great, Monsieur, but, like Eponine said, we're _very_ busy, so if you could just-"

"Come with us!" I cut her off. Turning to look up at Marius, I find myself smiling in that probably-psychopathic way I always do when in his presence. "Marius, you could come with us!"

Luckily, he doesn't seem to hear my sister's groan. I dig my fingernails into her palm, just for a second, to let her know that _I_ heard, even if Monsieur Marius didn't, and turn to look at him expectantly.

"I don't see why not." He says, and _there's_ that wonderful smile of his again.

Hastily reverting my gaze down to the ground so that he won't see me blush, I steer us in the direction of the bakery.

* * *

Once we were out of the busier part of Paris, Azelma must've slipped her hand from mine. Marius also retracted his arm from my shoulder just outside the butchers.

My little sister pushes the door to the bakery open first and scampers inside. I catch the door before it can swing shut and follow after her.

"Get out." The baker grumbles. "I'm not offering free hand-outs; some of us gotta make a livin'. Get _out_!"

"Bonjour, Monsieur." Marius greets cheerily, pushing the door open and waltzing in, completely oblivious to all the scolding that had been taking place just now.

The baker's demeanour changes almost immediately. He even smiles at my friend. "How may I help you, Monsieur?"

"Actually, my friend Eponine here is the one you should be talking to." Marius gestures to me casually.

I smile at him gratefully and turn to the baker, who grudgingly looks at me. "_Oui_?"

"I was just wondering if you have any spare flour?" I ask. "I know you probably use it so the bread doesn't stick to the surface, and I was wondering if, maybe, you could spare a _little_."

The baker drums his fingers on the countertop. "It'll cost ya."

"How much?"

"How much ya got?"

I reach into my pocket, and find a button. Nothing more, nothing less. "A button."

He laughs. "No can do."

Marius nudges me aside. "If you don't mind, Monsieur, I have…" He reaches into his trouser pocket, pulling out three shiny coins, "These. I'll be more than happy to pay for my friend's flour."

Swiping the coins from Marius' hand, as though he's afraid they might disappear if he isn't quick, the baker retreats into the back of the shop. He returns a few moments later with a paper bag, about half full with fine white flour.

"Merci, Monsieur." I say, lifting the bag from where he placed it on the counter as carefully as I can.

He nods his acknowledgement, and dusts off the spots of flour that found their way onto the wooden surface between us.

Glancing at Azelma, I set off for the door. Marius holds it open for me, as I'm holding the bag in both arms so as to minimise my chances of dropping it.

Once we're, all three of us, outside on the street, I turn to my sister. "Take off your shawl."

"But it's _cold_!" She complains.

"Do you want to see Gavroche, or don't you?" I snap.

Grumbling to herself, she unwinds her patchy shawl from around her shoulders and hands it to me.

"What exactly are you doing?" Marius asks me.

I smirk. "Getting Gavroche back."

His face alights with a delightfully wicked smile. Gosh, how I love him.

"'Zelma," I look at my sister, before I pass out due to Marius' wonderfulness. "How are your acting skills?"

"They're alright." She mumbles. "Why?"

"You'll see."

* * *

After Marius informed me that Les Amis are meeting for lunch, it was fairly easy to figure out where to position our prank.

Standing on the corner of the street the Café Musain is on, I hand my sister the bag of flour, which is bundled up in her shawl.

"You're not holding it right!" I scold, taking it from her and cradling it, as a demonstration of how she should do it. "You need to convince him that Ma's had another baby, and that it's… Sick, or something."

Azelma holds her arms out, and I pass her back the 'baby'. She takes it, cradling it in her arms so realistically that if I hadn't wrapped that bag of flour up myself, I might believe it's actually a small child.

"He's coming!" Marius whispers, dashing back from where I'd posted him as look-out.

Grabbing his arm, I yank him into the shadows and watch.

Azelma is _amazing_. As terrible as father's heists may be, at least they've taught my sister how to act. By the time Gavroche sees her, fat tears are rolling down her cheeks.

"Zelma!" He calls, running over.

My sister shifts the 'baby', so that all Gavroche can see is the cloth of the shawl and not the contents.

"Zelma, what's the matter?" Our brother asks tentatively.

She sniffs and pats the 'baby' affectionately. "Ma had a baby, a few weeks ago." She lies. "And… And, it's got sick."

"Hey, it's alright." Gavroche promises her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure he'll-"

"She'll,"

"I'm sure _she'll_ be fine."

I have to stifle a giggle. Azelma's getting a bit too carried away with this, I feel. But it's amusing to watch, and I trust her on this.

"I just… I just…" She shifts the 'baby's position once again. "Could you take a look, Gavroche?"

"'Course." He leans closer, to look at the 'baby'. "Zelma, it's just-"

"Surprise!" She squeezes the back of flour, causing a large white cloud to blow into his face.

Coughing, Gavroche straightens. Once the cloud has cleared away, his face and hair, as well as the front of his buttoned-up coat, are completely chalk white.

I can't hold it in. I laugh and laugh until I have to lean on Marius' shoulder, and even then that isn't much help because he's laughing too. Even Azelma has a wide grin on her face.

"_Eponine_!" My brother yells, storming towards me. Looks like I've blown my cover.

Still resting my arm on Marius' shoulder, I turn to my brother and smile. "Bonjour, mon petit frère."

"I'll… I'll…" He struggles to think of a good retort.

"Shh, little brother," I croon. "We're even now, right?"

He stalks off, dusting at the flour that still adorns his face, hair and clothing. I laugh again. Ah, revenge is wonderful.

* * *

**Azelma's middle name comes from the one of my favourite 'romance' stories- _Sign of the Hawk_, from _Girls' Adventure Stories of Long Ago_. Not sure if anyone else has the book, but it's been one of my favourites for years, and _Sign of the Hawk_ is my favourite story it contains :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, it's been a while. As in a long, long while. Sorry! I haven't given up on this story, though, I promise. **

**This chapter isn't quite so much to do with the prank war, but next chapter we should get back onto that. This is actually a scene you should vaguely recognise ;) And it'll set the premise for more pranks later on.**

**Since it's been a while since I saw the film, I based this on listening to the soundtrack by ear. So some details are going to be inaccurate. Plus, there's the fact that this is all rather AU thanks to the whole 'prank war' thing. So, yeah, don't kill me for that.**

**And if you find an instance where I've spelt 'Montparnasse' wrong, please let me know. The guy has such a difficult name to spell! D:**

* * *

Stand outside the tent. Watch out for anyone in a position to arrest my parents and their gang. And also me, since I'm keeping watch. Watch out for anyone who might arrest _me_. And _them_. _Us_.

Especially Javert. He likes to patrol this area, doesn't he? I think so...

Gavroche has yet to get me back for the flour trick, although it's been a month now. I can't help but think he's planning something really devious, really evil, and that _that's_ why it's taking him so long to retaliate. After all, I _know_ my brother; he's not the sort to let something like this drop, and we _are_ in the midst of a full blown prank war here.

Scanning the crowd of shoppers for police officers, I spy a familiar face heading towards me. Of all the times to bump into Marius… Can't he see I'm trying to work here?

I'll just have to tell him to take his beautiful self somewhere else. Although maybe I will word it a little differently when I actually say it aloud.

"Get out of here." I say as he stops beside me, before he can cram a word in.

Okay, maybe that came out a little more harshly than I would've liked it to.

Beside me, Montparnasse, also charged with watch duty, watches the exchange with interest. He'll be quizzing me on this later, I can tell. Oh, joy.

"But _Eponine_!" Marius whines.

"You'll be in trouble." I insist, grabbing his shoulders and try to turn him around, away from the tent.

"Why?" He asks, "What's going on?" He catches sight of Montparnasse, and then the tent, and I think the fact that me and my childhood 'friend' are standing on either side of the entrance must look a little shady. I'll have to mention it to father next time he's in a decent enough mood so that he can think of a new formation in time for the next heist. "Oh. I see."

"This is none of your concern, monsieur." Montparnasse says, forcing fake smiles and trying to come across as friendly, not in the least bit a cold-blooded criminal. He's a rather convincing actor, I can't help but notice. Perhaps, if fate had been kinder, a stage is where he'd be working right now. Maybe, in an alternate reality, there's a Montparnasse who acts for a living. Although, in _this_ reality at any rate, I know that if I made such a suggestion he would just laugh at me and ask me what sort of alcohol I'd been drinking.

My handsome (although slightly dim) friend drops his voice to a whisper. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes." I insist. "Now go, before you get in trouble. You're making a scene."

It's true, he is. People are starting to stare at him and whisper to each-other behind their hands. He stands out, in his shiny black boots and his perfectly washed clean shirt, talking to the likes of Montparnasse and me. Someone will come over to see what's going on, soon enough, and then they'll see what father's up to. And, idiot as much as he is, I don't want to see him arrested. He's my father.

Glancing at Montparnasse, I notice that he's starting to clench his hands into fists and realise that I should probably get Marius out of the way before he is acquainted with the prospect of a 'knuckle sandwich'. Latching onto Marius' arm, I mouth 'back in a second' to Montparnasse before herding the rich young man away.

We've travelled only a short distance- I've made sure we're still within Montparnasse's line of vision so that he can't accuse me of doing anything that I haven't done- when I stop and let go of Marius' arm.

"Bye." I say, unsure of how else I can convey that he needs to get out of here considering the fact that none of my other wordings have worked so far today.

Turning to leave, I ignore his voice as he yells my name in a vain attempt to get me to stop walking.

But, like I said, the street is busy today. Since I've been dodging people in crowds pretty much since I could walk (not to mention I have a naturally small stature), I manage to navigate the crowd with ease. However, Marius has no such experience; plus, he's tall and fairly clumsy. There's a few heavy footsteps behind me and then a crash.

I whirl round, expecting to see, well, I'm not sure what… But not _that_.

Clambering up onto his feet, Marius holds out a hand for the pretty little thing he's knocked down. She takes it, her big blue eyes locked on his, as he helps her back up again.

"I didn't see you there." Marius says awkwardly. "Please, forgive me."

She smiles a dainty little smile. "Of course, Sir."

I'd recognise that expression she wears, filled with admiration and hope, absolutely anywhere; I've worn it myself enough times. But the fact that she, too, is directing it at Marius- _my_ Marius!

Well, it's not like he has a label or anything, but that doesn't change the fact that… Oh, I don't know.

Part of me wants to stride over and bash some sense into her as she smiles coyly at Marius while he apologises over and over. Knowing him, he'll be there for a while. I remember once, he accidentally stood on my toe. For an entire week afterward, he'd greet me with: "I'm so sorry! How's your toe? Is it alright? I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry!"

Maybe I should go in and… Break it up, rather than standing here gawping.

A firm hand on my shoulder makes me jump a little, snapping me out of any plans I'd been formulating.

"It's been more than a second." Montparnasse's voice hisses.

Looks like that decision has been made for me, then. Wriggling out of his grip, we head back to our position of watch together just in time to see Javert come around the corner.

Acting fast, I poke my head through the door of the fabric tent in which my parents are attempting to con money out of some vaguely familiar man. He must be a past victim of their's, I can't think where else I'd know him from.

"It's the police." I explain frantically.

Montparnasse's head pokes through, into the tent, next to mine. "It's Javert. I think he's alone, but-"

Father's victim is pushing past us, outside into the street where he starts calling for a 'Cosette'. Funny… Maybe he's the man who took our Cosette away all those years ago? It'd explain why he's familiar.

The thought that the pretty little thing who took a shine to Marius earlier might be the same girl I used to bully so much as a child isn't a pleasant one. I quickly force it out of my mind.

"Let's get out of here." Father says,striding out of the tent, Mother hurrying after him.

Removing my head from the door, I whirl around just in time to see Javert catch sight of Father. And, of course, he'd recognise a Thernadier anywhere.

Which means I should probably get going… Tiptoeing past Montparnesse, who I know has spotted me but I pray will keep quiet, I break into a run the moment I'm far enough away that I trust I won't be caught.

Father will get himself out of whatever mess he's in right now. He usually does.


End file.
